


Better Days Ahead

by Coyote_the_Trickster



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019), Harley Quinn (Comics), Poison Ivy (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Burnout - Freeform, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Depersonalization, Domestic, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, One Shot, POV Lesbian Character, Panic Attacks, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26985595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coyote_the_Trickster/pseuds/Coyote_the_Trickster
Summary: Ivy's mental health is declining. Harley does her best to help her deal with it.
Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 6
Kudos: 86





	Better Days Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> This was a story born out of my recent feelings of helplessness. It's not flashy or exciting, but simply an expression of how I have felt the last couple months, including my saving graces: supportive people, empathetic communication, and therapy.

Pamela couldn’t understand why this was happening to her.

 _Again_. It was happening _again_.

That feeling of her feet lifting off the ground, like she was vacating her body and would soon float off this Earth. The hand in front of her face began to tremble—she couldn’t tell if it was anticipation, or nerves, or just a physiological reaction—the cost of being human.

The book fell from her hand, her fingers weakening as the tremors increased. 

_SMACK—_

“Pammy?” 

Harley’s head poked out from the kitchen where she had been heating up some leftover pizza. Her voice was muffled to Pamela’s ear. She could barely make out the shape of the other woman as her vision blurred. Now her arm was shaking—her chest—why couldn’t she breathe—?

From the corner of her eyes, she caught Harley charging through the living room. Pamela leaned forward bracing herself on her knees, desperately swallowing air. She had some sense Harley was near, saying something—

“—Pam!” Harley called loud enough to pierce through all the static in her head. She gulped down a shallow breath. Something terrible was gnawing at her insides, desperately trying to claw its way out—

“Hey baby,” Harley continued, her voice continuing to crystalize in Pamela’s ear, “I’m here, ok?”

Pamela lifted off her knees a little, trying to turn her head and offer Harley some kind of reassurance—she was fine. This was no big deal. This human body had not gotten the best of her—

But the room was tilting, turning upside down. She closed her eyes to stop herself from feeling sick.

Harley’s hand covered her own, “Can ya tell me three things ya can feel right now?”

She swallowed, her throat thick and sore as she did her best to push the panic down.

Pamela hated when Harley asked her this, but as was always the case, she was too desperate to refuse. She nodded.

“The cushion,” Pamela forced out, pushing her neck against the back of the couch.

She was walking the line, and if she wasn’t careful, Pamela knew she’d slip and fall.

Pamela then flexed the muscles in her feet, the ground solidifying underneath her. 

“The carpet.”

“Good…” Harley squeaked from beside her.

Pamela’s shallow breath grew deeper as Harley gently squeezed her hand. Pamela finally opened her eyes, the titles of ceiling focusing in front of her. She sucked in a long, deep breath.

“You,” she let out, shakily. Pamela returned Harley’s squeeze trying to tether herself to the feeling of her hand in hers.

Everything was still again, her body firmly situated on the couch, next to Harley—just where she had remembered it being. 

Pamela closed her eyes again. 

“I-I was just sitting here,” the words left her mouth, but she wasn’t sure she recognized them as hers,

“Just reading—and—"

“I know,” came Harley’s soft voice.

“And it happened _again_!” 

There was a new feeling in her body: a vitirol pushing up from the pit of her stomach. Tingling in her neck and a tightness in her face.

“I know,” Harley repeated, her voice small.

Pam’s face was wet. The taste of copper spread across her tongue as her teeth let go of her bottom lip. Harley’s hand hadn’t left hers. 

“These things take time, Pammy,” Harley offered after a pause, “I’m sorry.”  
  


* * *

  
This had been happening a lot lately…

Harley let out an exhausted sigh as she settled into bed. How long had Pam been having these panic attacks? It was something Harley had only become aware of once the two started living together—and even then, she had to wonder: Had Pam been suffering the entire time they had known one another? It wasn’t too absurd, with all the fightin’ and crazy shit that went down in Gotham. Really, was there anyone in this city, who wasn’t suffering from some kind of trauma? 

But _Pammy_. _Pamela Isley_. _Poison Ivy_. Surely, if anyone was tough enough to bear anything it was her…no—

Harley shook her head as if to dispel the thought from her mind. She knew better. Her training had taught her otherwise. Anyone human, was susceptible to trauma.

She could hear her partner soft footsteps traversing the living room. 

Harley turned onto her side, facing the empty spot of the bed. Pam didn’t _need_ as much sleep as she did, but she _liked_ sleeping, didn’t she? Harley missed lying down with her…hearing her voice as she murmured about her day until she fell asleep…feeling her arms around her…

The television clicked on and a low murmur travelled down the hall and into the bedroom.

Harley sat up in bed, her head collapsing in her hands. She let out a sigh and threw off the covers.

Pam was watching a rerun of the news from earlier that day—a proposal by none-other-than- Bruce-Wayne-himself wanted to reduce the size of Robinson Park in order to make room for more high-rise apartments. Harley didn’t need to see Pam’s face to know she must be scowling, or crying—or both— 

“Are ya sure ya should be watching this kinda stuff right now?” Harley asked calmly—curiously—as she placed a comforting hand on Pam’s shoulder. 

“Go back to bed, Harls,” came the cold, almost dead, reply.

“I know it’s upsetting, but you aren’t doing yourself—or Robinson Park—any favors by draining your energy like this.”

Pam sighed as Harley joined her on the couch. She rested her head on Pam’s shoulder and tried to watch what was being shown to her on the television. The news wasn’t really anything Harley concerned herself with, it often being too depressing or boring to really ever hold her attention. 

“Every year that bastard finds another way—”

“Will you come lie down with me?”

Pam didn’t respond.

Harley felt herself fading, her attention drifting as she closed her eyes. She waited until the light from the television disappeared, the voices on the screen swallowed up by the darkness. Harley’s eyes opened as her head slipped from Pam’s shoulder.

Pam was heading towards the door, grabbing her coat off the nearby chair. Harley struggled to follow her in the dark.

“I need to get out for a bit,” Pam said, her hand already on the doorknob, “I’ll see you later.”

* * *

If she went after Bruce, she knew Batman would protect him—and she was not in any state to deal with Batman. If she was being honest with herself, she hadn’t been for awhile. It was all too overwhelming to think about the diminishing Robinson Park…the dying Earth…

A heaviness sunk into her limbs weighing down every step she made across the pavement. The buildings hung like shadows over her. Was there anything Pamela could do? When did this all get so hard—

Pamela stopped at the edge of the park and whispered a silent apology. 

Protecting this other side to her—this other world she inhabited—had always been difficult, but these days, it was all too easy to feel helpless by the enormity of it all—the constant fighting and failures.

Pamela could no longer rely on the extreme tactics she so effortlessly gravitated to in the past. 

Walking through the oak grove, Pamela kept her eyes on her feet. It was amazing that such a green place grew and thrived in the midst of a place like Gotham City. It had become a reprieve for Pamela, from all the madness of the city—the suffocation of she experienced around all the people...

Lying on the grass, she could feel the Earth embrace her. 

* * *

Harley wasn’t worried—

Pam just went for a walk…probably to Robinson Park. She did that sometimes. When she needed fresh air. Needed something green. Wanted to be alone. 

She wasn’t worried. Pam could take care of herself—

Sinking back into the couch, Harley rubbed her eyes. The voices were loud, trying to convince her otherwise—Pam was going to find Bruce, take on Batman, do something stupid that would land her back in Arkham, or worse, dead—

Harley threw her legs across the couch and crossed her arms over her chest. She wouldn’t go back to be alone. She argued with herself into her eyes fell shut and she drifted off into a light, restless sleep—

It was the creak of the apartment door as it opened that woke Harley up. She twisted around and almost fell of the couch, forgetting where she was. The sun had barely come up, a few rays shining through the window. She stayed down, lying flat against the cushion and listening to Pam move in the kitchen.

Eventually, Harley sat up and cast her gaze over to the kitchen just in time to catch Pam in door frame. She was balancing a small box in her hand.

“I picked these up on the way home,” she explained, matter-of-factly, “For you.”

It was dirty. 

It was cheap. 

It was a sign that Pam knew she had hurt Harley’s feelings, but didn’t want to talk about it. It was easier to buy her off with sweets, distract her—and Harley, even knowing that, fell for it every time.

Before she was able to feel anything, she leapt off the couch and ran to the kitchen table. Her stomach growled and Pam watched as she flipped open the lid to see an array of her favorite donuts. 

Harley had already stuff half a donut in her mouth (pink, with sprinkles) when she noticed Pam was smiling at her. Smiling, like she had gotten away with all this. Harley’s concern returned. 

Pam walked to the counter to make some coffee.

The cake was dry in Harley’s throat as she sat down at the table.

It was now or never, she thought. The timing would never be right, and Pam would certainly be unappreciative, but--

“Do ya wanna talk about it?” she swallowed.

Pam remained quiet, focused on stirring the grounds into her hot water. Harley looked at her hands as she clenched them into fists and released them again. 

How many times had she’d asked that question? 

“I’m just…worried about ya, that’s all,” she tried to explain, “Take if from someone who knows—It’s not good ta keep it all bottled up, ya know?”

“ _You_ wouldn’t understand,” came the curt response.

Harley winced, the emphasis on _you_ feeling particularly painful. Pam had stopped stirring and turned to face Harley, her eyes were burning into her. She had meant to hurt Harley. To push her away.

“I’m sorry, Harley,” she bit back, her gaze softening, “You can’t help me with this.”

Harley brought her hands together on the table, her eyes watching them join together.

“I know,” she admitted weakly, “But maybe someone else can.”

Pam resumed stirring, a sigh escaping her lips.

“We’ve been over this—”

“And I don’t see what the big deal is!” Harley let out frustrated, her head snapping in Pam’s direction,

“Therapy is a perfectly acceptable thing ta consider—!”

“It—it isn’t for me, Harls.”

The sadness in Pam’s voice nipped at Harley’s heart. The hint of condensation was downright infuriating. Harley pushed her chair back as she stood.

“Yer still human, ya know. Whatever that bastard Woodrue did ta ya doesn’t diminish that! I know it’s easier fer ya ta pretend otherwise—” 

Pam was glaring at her, but Harley refused to back down holding her eyes in her own. She needed Pam to know that this was now affecting her. Her eyes begged her partner to consider—to at least try—if she couldn’t do it for herself, then could she at least do it for her?

* * *

It was happening again.

Pamela’s breath grew short, her heart pounding, trying to break free of her chest. She tried to focus on Harley next to her, but her stillness in sleep only seemed to agitate Pamela more. Reaching out, she wrapped her arm around her, pulling herself into Harley’s back. Harley’s warmth was comforting. She already felt her breath slowing.

“Hey Pammy, it’s ok,” she heard Harley soothe. Harley’s hand rubbed her arm as she tightened her hold around her middle. Pamela buried her nose and forehead into Harley’s shoulder. Shutting her eyes, she focused on Harley’s voice.

“It’s ok,” Harley continued, “I’m here. Breathe with me, ok?”

Pamela nodded against Harley’s shoulder. The other woman took a deep breath down to her belly and Pam let her breath follow. God, Harley was such a saint. She didn’t deserve Harley, not really. All she did was hurt her, push her away—it wasn’t that she didn’t trust Harley—that she didn’t love Harley—she was just so afraid of Harley. Afraid of Harley leaving. Afraid of Harley recognizing how crazy she was. How futile her fights were. How undeserving she was of any kindness or love. 

She took in another breath, dragging it all the way down to her belly. Harley’s stomach flattened under her hand. She was already feeling calmer.

“—Pam?”

Pamela felt a squeeze on her wrist. Harley’s head had lifted off the pillow.

She pushed forward and pressed her lips against Harley’s neck, her breathing even again.

“Thank you,” she whispered, tears on the brims of her eyes “Harley, thank you.”

“I’m here, Pam.”

They were quiet for a moment. Harley soothingly ran her hand up and down Pamela’s arm.

“The planet is dying…if people don’t even care about Robinson Park, what hope is there for the rest of it?”

“Are ya feelin’ scared ‘cause ya can’t protect the Earth?”

Harley had rested her head back on the pillow, her hand never stopping its caress. Tears gathered in Pamela’s eyes. She had no way of describing her attraction to Harley—why she felt she needed her so badly—

“Yes,” she admitted, nodding, “What if, in the end, this is all hopeless? What if I already feel like giving up?”

“Are ya scared, ‘cause ya think ya failed?”

“I’m tired, Harley. Tired of always fighting…and losing.”

Pamela pressed her forehead into Harley’s shoulder, her grip on her tightening as she let out a ragged breath. 

“I’m here…whenever yer tired…whenever ya need a break…” Harley spoke gently.

She shifted onto her back and looked at Pamela. Even in the dark, Pamela could see the sincerity in her face. With her arm still around Harley’s middle, she moved closer so her entire body was pressed into her side. Harley held her close.

“I know there are things I’ll never understand—things I can’t help ya with, but I want to support ya however I can.” 

Pamela nodded into her neck. 

For whatever reason, whether Pamela could articulate it or not, she believed her.

* * *

“Pamela Isley?” 

Pamela stiffened at the sound of her name. Harley offered her a reassuring look and squeezed her hand. She glanced at the receptionist behind the front desk.

“I’ll be here if ya need anything.”

Pamela nodded before standing, smiling back at the woman who had called her name. 

“The doctor will see you now,” the receptionist said leading Pamela down the hallway. They stopped in front of the first closed door on the right. Her stomach clenched. 

She looked back towards the waiting room and saw Harley leaning from her seat to watch her walk down the hall. When their eyes met, Harley smiled and she felt herself at ease. Turning back to the shut door, Pamela reached out her hand to grasp the handle and pushed it open.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I love hearing what you think! Love it? Hate it? Constructive criticism? I'll take it all!


End file.
